


miserabilis

by indomiiac



Series: The Unfortunate Case of an Insomniac [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Donald Duck and Scrooge McDuck Reconcile, Emotionally Repressed Scrooge McDuck, Episode: s01e10 The Spear of Selene!, Gen, Hurt Donald Duck, Hurt Scrooge McDuck, Insomniac Scrooge, Other, Swearing, post shadow war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 01:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16985580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indomiiac/pseuds/indomiiac
Summary: Donald finds Scrooge in the kitchen at 3 am, only to find him with a bleeding hand.Like the responsible adult he is, he tries to mend Scrooge's hand, but also started mending his relationship with his estranged Uncle too.





	miserabilis

Lately, the sailor has been waking up early to start rebuilding the boat, unfortunately destroyed during the battle with Magica. Mrs. Beakley tried to give Donald the assistance he needed, but he was as stubborn as his Uncle Scrooge can be.

_My boat. My rules._

Scrooge offered to pay for the materials he needed to build when he heard the news from Bentina. At first, he cringed at the amount of money he had to give, but… Donald has saved his life on multiple occasions. More than he could admit. Scrooge may not always show it, or may not even say it, but he owes so much to that sailor. They always have each other’s back, even if they didn’t display it.

This time. This time was different.

 

From what Donald could tell, the old miser wasn’t doing this for the kids, because they’re related, or to look good in front of everyone else like he always have, but it was for him. For Donald himself.

Donald thought this was too good to be true, but the Uncle he looked up to, who built a rocket for his sister behind his back, endangering everyone’s lives on his misadventures, was genuinely doing this.

 

How much did this crazy old man change during the ten years with no contact at all?

 

Well, how would he know?

 

He doesn’t talk to Scrooge unless it’s a minor problem, or when it’s around the kids. But they never had a real conversation, that was just… them. They never had that type of relationship, even when Della was around.

Della was the one tying these two together, like how their nephews are right now. With Della gone, they just fell apart. Until… they talked one day.

 

Before the break of dawn, the veteran had always woke up at 3:30 due to his military training, and well his role to the kids. You see, Donald is the one to raise them their whole lives. He used to be the one who always woke the kids up, always the one dealing with the little grumps in the morning. Oh, how much they’ve changed.

Ever since they technically moved into Mcduck Manor, the house boat grew silent. That was hard to come by when the triplets were around but— Since that boat is non-existent for… a while, he temporarily has his own room at the mansion.

Now that’s something he isn’t used to anymore. No waves slightly rocking his bed- nothing. Just an eerie silence.

 

_Crash._

A sound came from downstairs, followed by a-

“GÒRACH PÌOS DE CAC! FUCK.”

 

That…. that was the old miser, wasn’t it. His crankiness and, way of speaking, especially the clear Scottish Gaelic swearing. It couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. It was Uncle Scrooge.

Donald rushed downstairs just in case.

 

“AcK-MHAC NA GALLa.” Scrooge shrieked in pain.

“Jesus Christ. I can hear you from upstairs, can you stop swearing, crazy old man?!” Donald whispered loudly then stopped all movement- when he saw what happened… well with what he can gather anyway.

 

A broken cup with its shards all across the kitchen tiles, and a finger bleeding, staining the miser’s feathers.

Donald sighed.

“Stay here. Don’t pick up any shards. Don’t move. I swear it’s too early for this.” He turned to look for the nearest bathroom, where the medicine cabinet is.

Scrooge did as he was told. It wasn’t like him to listen, but he figured it was fair. Still, this… this was embarrassing. It’s embarrassing that his nephew found him like this. Sometimes he wonders, if Donald is the one who has bad luck or it was him. Donald reappeared. He was holding a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, cotton balls, and a first aid kit.

“Go near the sink.”

“It’s not like i cannae do it myself, nephew.”

“No. You know how blood is hard to remove with the kind of feathers we have. Now move.”

 

Donald opened the faucet, folded Scrooge’s sleeve and let the water wash over his finger. Scrooge winced, and gritted his teeth. The sailor grabbed a handful of cotton and poured a bit of the rubbing alcohol on that to disinfect the wound after.

As Donald was about to apply it, the miser instinctively pulled his hand back.

“Scrooge.” Donald calls him, like how he calls the triplets when they’ve done something wrong. Yes, that tone. The tone of a parent. It was weird to do it. Especially, to Scrooge. But nonetheless, the old duck surrendered.

 

“It’s 3 in the morning, yeh ken? Leave me alone.” He grumbled.

“The last time everyone left you alone, the mansion was filled with pizza boxes from top to bottom. It was even between the floorboards for God’s sake. Now look at yourself right now.” Donald retaliated.

“Oi, it’s not my fault yeh didnae tell them about Della.”

 

**_Oh. So that’s how it is._ **

 

“What did you expect me to tell them? Both of you didn’t listen to me, and now she’s gone?” Donald started wrapping Scrooge’s hand in a gauze tightly.He only focused his view on the old man’s hand.

Scrooge didn’t say anything in response. That’s… unlike him. Was that a bit too much? He’s Scrooge McDuck. He can handle everything that’s thrown at him then… Why?

His hand… his hand was shaking. Why is that?

 

“Why are you even awake at this hour, old man? You never wake up this early.” Not looking up, Donald still wrapping his hand.

No answer.

 

“...Let me change the question— Considering that’s spilt coffee on the floor, how many cups of coffee did you go through? Before you broke that?”

Silence… but… Huey sure is like his Uncle Donald. So many questions this one. Was there ever a time Donald ever… talked directly to him like this? Scrooge wasn’t entirely sure, but at this point… he has nothing to lose anymore.

 

Because it didn’t matter to him anymore.

 

Nothing, not even his pride.

 

“...Honestly, I didnae keep track of it anymore. I…” He paused-“... don’t keep track of anything anymore really, not even myself.”

 

It was simple as that. One simple solution to numb everything up: stop giving a fuck about yourself. Stop caring about everything. Every single little thing.

 

_I don’t really… care. anymore._

 

He just wants to stop.

 

_I just want the nightmares to stop._

_I just want to stop the thoughts in my head, keeping me awake all night._

_I just want to stop drinking this rubbish._

_I just want to stop._

 

He’s tired.

 

_I’m so tired of this._

_I’m so tired of feeling this way._

_I’m so tired of caring too much._

 

_I’m so tired._

 

_I just want to… sleep._

 

But he can’t say that. He can’t say anything but-

**“I’m sorry.”**

 

That broke the silence that seemed to have lasted for an eternity. Silence is what both of them hate. The miser had to say something.

 

“What?”

 

Donald wasn’t like Della, who never ran out of questions, trying to find what’s out there. Donald wasn’t like Webby, who liked awkward silences and doesn’t care if the conversation didn’t continue. Donald wasn’t like Huey, Dewey, or Louie, who wonder about his Uncle, who wants to prove himself to their Uncle, or wanting to become like their Uncle.

 

“I’m… sorry.”

 

Donald wasn’t like Scrooge, who always risked everything for treasure, who’s good at handling a business, who’s tougher than the toughies, smarter than the smarties, and sharper than the sharpies, always one step ahead of the enemy. Donald used to want to be like him.

 

But Scrooge was like Donald now, he doesn’t see himself in a good way, not anymore, so clumsy, a waste of space, nothing more than what he can view himself but a failure. He can’t see the light in the end of the tunnel. Indifferent to the world, and to himself. Not mattering anymore, ever feeling so insignificant. Hating the silence, where it just left both of them to think.

**_Scrooge was just nothing, but trouble._ **

 

“No, you’re not.” The sailor finished healing his wound.

 

Funny. What did Scrooge expect the sailor to say anyway? What more could he possibly get from an empty apology like that? All empty… like all of his promises.

 

What was he even sorry about? What was he saying sorry for? He’s sorry for something… just… something.

 

“You’re not sorry for anything, Scrooge.”

 

_Stupid._

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

The miser wished he didn’t answer.  
There was no point to-

“Just because you made a mistake doesn’t make you a bad person. Stop distancing yourself from your family. It doesn’t help. Trust me— I know.” Donald snapped.

 

_Huh?_

 

“The boys don’t really have a tight-lipped attitude, you know. Especially since I raised them.”

 

“Heh. Proud of that? Eh, nephew?”

 

“Yep. Don’t even try to change the subject.”

 

Confrontation was something both of them hated as much as silence. But… they have to do this. Donald has to do it. It was now or never.

“...”

 

“You know?” Donald sighed. “Della wanted to be like you. She idolized you. I didn’t know why. I didn’t understand why. Why become this old grumpy selfish miser who cut all ties from his family, from Ma?”

“Wow, nephew. Thanks.”

“Yeah. She wanted to be somebody like you. Who wouldn’t? She always had the better hand at life, but out of all the things she could do in her life, Della chased after you.”

 

Scrooge frowned at this.

 

_Why?_

_Why would she do that?_

 

**_Why would anyone want to be someone like me?_ **

 

Donald found his Uncle’s expression to be peculiar, but extremely familiar…

Was this how he looked like before? That expression…

He seldom looked like that, but here Scrooge was.

 

Here he was.

 

“I hated it. I hated how Della wanted that. Della was better at everything. I guess to me, it made sense...She’d chase after you. You and Della were always so good at what you do. Me? I just couldn’t catch up. I don’t think I ever did anything worthwhile.”

 

“....That’s not true. You raised three wee lads by yourself. Even I cannae do that. I might have tae put them up for foster care considering how—“

 

How bad his headspace was during those ten years. He was known to recklessly throw himself at every dangerous decision, spending all of his money just to search for any trace of Della, almost bankrupting his own company.

It was so close, yet so far.

She was there, just somewhere, out within his reach.

The aftermath was this— And it was all his fault.

All of it.

It left him an empty man, losing all purpose, all drive, to even just….

 

“... how i was back then. They’re better off with yeh, Donald.”

 

“You’re not the only one who’s affected by… what happened to Della, old man. Everyone here is affected. Whether you’re detached from us or not, everyone’s just here. It’s weird— so frustrating how everyone around you is just moving on while you’re just stuck. I know how it feels, and it looks like you’re going through that too. Hell, you seem to have it worse though.” Donald chuckled.

Scrooge was… dumbfounded, not at the fact of what Donald had told him these things, but that Donald has been like this before, is like this right now.

 

_I’m sorry that you have to see yourself this way._

 

Scrooge loved Donald, even if he never made an effort to show it. Scrooge saw him as one of the most daring adventurers of all time even! Webby took note of that!

 

_I’m sorry that I was too busy feeling sorry that I didna see you in the way that you can’t._

 

He was the one keeping Scrooge, and Della in check at every adventure, and the sailor didn’t realize it, even failed to see it!

 

_I’m sorry for not telling you when I built that rocket._

 

“I didna think ye ken things like this.”

 

_I’m sorry for taking your sister away._

 

“Well, when you’ve been through war, you tend to see things differently. It’s not really… something I’m proud of.”

 

_I’m sorry that you have to meet me._

No response from Scrooge this time.

 

“But it’s something you have to accept.”

 

_I’m sorry for having to be your uncle._

 

“It’s easier said than done, but everyone’s waiting. And we’ll wait right here. It doesn’t have to be right away, Uncle Scrooge.”

 

_I’m sorry for falling behind._

 

“Society, no… not even family… they don’t really see that legends are people too, you know? That’s why you always keep a strong front. Our family’s cursed with having so much pride, that sometimes we’re blinded by it.”

 

_I’m sorry for being so proud, so stubborn._

 

“It’s ok to look weak every once in a while, ok?”

 

“....Do ye even believe that?”

“The kids do. That’s what matters.”

 

Scrooge subtly smiles.

 

“I’m sorry that this conversation… felt a little bit one sided.”

Donald knew Scrooge wasn’t sorry.

“Nah. You’re not sorry for anything, old timer.”

 

Scrooge needed this, and he snickered at that remark.

“Now help me clean up, before Mrs. B gives us the stink eye. And DON’T PICK SHARDS, Uncle.”

“Aye, lad. I’m not deaf. Didnae have to yell at me.”

“I’m gonna go get the broom and dust pan. You look for a rag to clean up the spill.”

 

Scrooge turned around to find a rag in the kitchen, avoiding the splatter, and the cup’s broken pieces all over the floor.

 

“One more thing-“ Donald, out of nowhere, embraces the miser from behind.

“And what the blazes is this supposed tae be.”

“I’m trying to be nice, fool. Appreciate it.”

“Mm hmm.” Scrooge raises a brow.

 

“Can I take the chandelier from that one room no one even uses?”

“And that, lad, is where you’re pushing your damn luck.”

“You don’t believe in luck, so i’m taking that as a yes.” Donald lets go of the old man, and makes a dash to the hallway.

“OI. YOU WILL NOT BE TAKING THE CHANDELIER, Y’HEAR?! I’ll be damned if you-- eugh. I’m too tired for this.”

 

Donald and Scrooge were never close. They don’t know each other very well, but this time it felt different. It felt like home. It felt like old times. Their bond may be broken over the years, but this time they put some of the pieces back together.

 

Although it may not be perfect, both of them were trying.

That was okay.

 

The old miser who had so many apologies clustered in head, had one that wasn’t a sorry.

 

It was- a “Thank you.”

 

Thank you for talking to me even if i didn't have to say anything.

 

_Just like old times eh, lad?_


End file.
